Pokemon, I Choose You! Kinda
by oneinsanenutjob
Summary: I parody I had to write for class over the first half of Pokemon episode 1. One-shot.


**So this was a creative writing project for writing parodies and I picked the first pokemon episode soooo...here you go.  
**

**Disclaimer: If I owned pokemon, Ash would be 16. And better looking.  
**

* * *

**Pokémon, I Choose…No, I Did Not Choose You. Wait, What the Heck is Going On?**

Hello. I am your omnipotent narrator! I enjoy plot holes, never showing my face, and saying the words 'To be continued' followed by a dramatic line of ellipses… You may have played the games, but you've never seen the story of the hero they were based off of – his story is layered in a thick coat of sap over a layer of cheese.

It was a wonderful day for Ash Catch'em, and, like every other 'hero with a destiny' adventure, it started with a dream: The dream of being the very best, that no one ever was. To catch them was his real test, to but train them was his cause. To teach Pokémon to understand the power that's inside. (POKEMON!) There weren't many other kids (only about 75% of the child population) that shared his dream, and he knew he would be the one to achieve it. No matter how long it took! Maybe before his next birthday…

But today, our hero is the ripe old age of ten. The age of independence, adventure, and fart jokes. Today was the day Ash would get his first Pokémon slav-_friend_. Of his three starter choices, Charmadar the fire-type, Bulbasaur the grass-type, and Squirtle the water-type, Ash wasn't sure which to pick. All were viable choices and could be an essential part of his team. No other Pokémon could so easily make hugs as dangerous as Charmandar could, but how many other Pokémon were walking plant buds? At the same time, Squirtle's shell would come in handy should Ash ever find himself in a food fight.

This fine morning, we find our hero running up the hill to Professor Oak's laboratory. It is a heroic run, really. He runs with fierce determination and poise, all backed by the haste of being utterly and absolutely late for the most important day of his life. His dark, bed-head hair perfectly matches his blue-green pajamas and the fact that he hadn't even remembered to put on shoes. He stops at the back of a crowd at the top of the hill and stands on his tip-toes to see what the commotion is.

At the front of the cheering group, five scantily-clad teenage cheerleaders stand in a kick line and chant, "Gary! Gary!" over and over and over and over and…you get the point. Walking out of the building, a pokeball spinning on his finger tip, walked Gary Oak: fellow ten year old, grandson of the Professor, and pride of the town. Ash pushes his way through the crowd and stumbles in front of Gary. Gary barely registers Ash's presence before proclaiming, "Alright, stop!"

At his words the cheering fumbles and the band that Ash is still unable to locate clumsily stumbles into silence. Ash looks around at the silenced crowd before looking back up at Gary, who is now glaring daggers at our hero.

"Who do you think you are?" Gary asks, hand on his hips. "This is my victory parade, doofus. You're stealing my spotlight and Kelly spent an hour powdering my face." Gary circles his face with his hand; one could almost see the sparkles. "Now get out of my way, present, before I use my awesome new Pokémon to wipe your pathetic existence of the street.

Ash stares as Gary's pokeball as it spins. "Wow!" Ash says. "What pokemon did you get?"

Gary blinks a few times. "Don't you know how to read the atmosphere?"

"What's an atmosphere?" It is true, sadly, that the only feeling that Ash has the capability of detecting is imminent heroism. Ash doesn't even feel the weight of the crowds eyes as they all simultaneously wonder, "Who is this kid and why have we never seen his stupidity before?"

After a few moments, Gary shrugs and turns his attention back to the crowd. "Who wants to cheer as I drive off in my Ferrari?" The crowd cheers and the invisible band begins to play has Gary hops into the back of a sleek red car and waves. The crowd follows as the driver leaves, not even questioning their hero-worship of a pre-pubescent boy. Meanwhile our hero is left alone in his pajamas.

"Ash!" Ash jumps as he turns to see Professor Oak, who had come out of his lab. "It's about time you – are those Master Ball boxers?" Professor Oak stands in his lab coat which awkwardly accents his slightly shaded skin tone and very well aged face. But that was Asians for you; they age better than what's good for them.

"Professor! I'm here for my Pokémon!" Ash shouts louder than necessary.

"Well I'm afraid you came pretty late," Oak tells him. "All three of the classic basic Pokémon have already been – "

"What?" Ash runs into the lab and sees, to his horror that all three pokeballs on the table have been emptied. Dismayed, Ash shouts, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well," the Professor presses a button and a panel opens in the middle of the table. The lights dim and a spotlight centered on a small panel that slowly and overdramatically began to rise. "We do have one more."

"Is that a drum roll?" Ash looks around the darkened room, trying to find the source. He almost misses it when the panel finishes its slow assent and confetti rains down over it.

"This is the pokeball of a Pokémon named Pikachu," the Professor explains. "It is our final option, but…it has some problems."

"Who cares about problems? It's a Pokémon and I need one!" Ash demands, "Fork it over!"

"Are you sure? This is a non-refundable Pokémon. Under no circumstances will you be able to get me to take it back."

"Yes I'm sure! Gimme gimme gimme!"

"Alright then…" Oak pulls a paper and pen out of his jacket. "Sign here then please."

Ash signs without a second thought and Oak presses the small button on the pokeball. All laws of physics are defied as a small, yellow rodent appears on the table in a flash of red light. Along with the Pokémon, it appeared that a box of pizza and several milkshake wrappers had made it inside as well.

"It's...fat." Pikachu does not appreciate this. As Ash picks up his new Pokémon for closer examination, Pikachu proceeds to send such a powerful shock through him that his eyes seem to bulge out of his head. "Ash weakly tuned his smoking head to the Professor and begins to ask, "So can I give this back or…?"

Oak just holds up the paper, but Ash tosses Pikachu into his arms.

"Don't…don't you have any more? I mean, you knew there were more than three kids in this town, right?"

"Well that's what Pikachu's for, you see-"

"Right?" Ash says as if the Professor hadn't spoken. "You must have more than three?"

"Yeah, that's what Pikachu's-"

"_Right, Professor_?"

"Kid, we have to stick a moral in here somehow and not being late was the best the Japanese could come up with on short notice, now suck it up and _take the freaking rat_." Oak shoves the Pikachu back into Ash's hands. Pikachu does not seem to like being called 'rat' however, and by the time Ash walked out of the lab, he was almost certain he would eventually develop problems with his nervous system.

Outside, a small, cheering crowd of Ash's neighbors awaits their up-and-coming hero. Ash's mother stood at the front of the crowd as the soul person who had not been paid to come. Someone had to buy out everyone else.

"Ash, honey!" his mother called as he walked out. "I packed your backpack with everything you'll need for your trip!" As she lists what she's packed, she piles them out of the bag and into her son's arms. "Here's some money, your jeans, extra shirts, your hat, your jacket, extra underwear, extra socks, rubber gloves, a close line, a toothbrush, bug spray, sun block, dandruff shampoo, your ointment –"

"OK MOM I THINK I GET IT." Ash practically yells from under the suffocating pile of objecgts. On the ground, Pikachu could be heard laughing through a bite of a slice of pizza.

Pikachu catches the attention of Ash's mom. "Is this your Pokémon?" she asks, no pep lost. "He has so much…fur." No one feels the need to point out that Pikachu, in fact, does not have fur long enough to make it any larger than its bone structure…which they frankly aren't even sure Pikachu had a bone structure.

"Don't worry mom," Ash's determination returns. "Just wait, by season three, we'll get all that fat trimmed down! Maybe even his personality, by season five!"

Everyone in the vicinity was now very sure that Ash had a bone structure; and that electricity apparently had the ability to make skin and muscle transparent.

After a quick two minutes inside to get changed, Ash heads out for Route 1, pokedex in hand, and waves goodbye to his mother as she shouts, "By Ash! Don't forget to call when you're voice drops!"

Ash waves one last time before walking into the grass, Pikachu dragging behind him from his clothes line while slurping the last of his milkshake.

_To be continued…_

_Dang_, that's fun.


End file.
